


These Streets Are Slick at Night

by Lalalli



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: College AU, Curses, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalalli/pseuds/Lalalli
Summary: Jemma is aware that she has a reputation for being a bit of a know-it-all. From her perspective, it’s not a bad thing. Maybe if others studied more, they could be know-it-alls too. If someone asks a question, she’s not going to pretend to not know.And in her defense, she’s a scientist. Scientists aren’t supposed to believe in magic. Sally didn’t have to get all offended.*Written for Fitzsimmons Appreciation Week 2017Prompt: Curse





	These Streets Are Slick at Night

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this super quickly, so I'll probably need to go back and edit it later. I also kept on cutting and pasting paragraphs, so if you get to a part of the story that makes no sense, that's why.

Jemma is aware that she has a reputation for being a bit of a know-it-all. From her perspective, it’s not a bad thing. Maybe if others studied more, they could be know-it-alls too. If someone asks a question, she’s not going to pretend to not know.

And in her defense, she’s a scientist. Scientists aren’t supposed to believe in magic. Sally didn’t have to get all _offended_.

Jemma thumps her forehead on the table. “This is the worst.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go through this again,” Fitz says, as though they haven’t just gone through it a hundred times in the past hour. “Weber was saying that the abnormal growth of flora behind the Modern Languages department building was due to magic.”

“Yes.”

“And you said magic isn’t real.”

“Yes.”

“And then Sally cursed you?”

Jemma lifts her head off the table. “Well, there was a bit more to our conversation than that, but yes, that is essentially what happened.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Daisy says without looking up from her laptop. “This is like, the opposite of a problem. I would love to know the answer to every question I’m asked. Can you imagine how much faster I’d be able to complete my homework?”

“Because it’s embarrassing!” Jemma complains. “I have zero filter. Everything just -” Jemma mimes gagging. “Just, word vomit. All over the place. Today Dr. Weaver had to remind me to raise my hand in class before I blurt out the answers.”

Fitz taps his pen against his notebook, looking askance in thought. “Okay, so before we can fix the problem, we need to understand the problem. The parameters of the curse, if there are limits, if Jemma can delay her answers.”

Daisy looks up from her laptop. “Jem, why was the American Civil War fought?”

“To end slavery,” Jemma responds automatically. “You can’t possibly need to know that for your Mandarin homework.”

“Yeah, but if you had said the war was over states’ rights, then we’d know it’s a racist curse,” Daisy says brightly. “Parameters.”

For the rest of their allotted time in their reserved study room in the library, Fitz and Daisy take turns asking Jemma questions. They find out that if they ask her about something that will occur in the future, Jemma’s response is, “It is yet to be determined.” They find out that Jemma can spit out the answers to complex calculations and questions about events that are currently in progress elsewhere (“Dr. Oates,” Jemma responds, to the abject horror of Fitz, who had asked her, “What is Dr. Hall doing right now?”). It seems that as long as someone, somewhere, knows the answer to a question, Jemma will blurt it out automatically.

It’s inconvenient and annoying, but it’s not particularly dangerous, so Jemma continues to prioritize studying for her classes over researching potential solutions to her curse. Which isn’t to say that she doesn’t look into it at all, but she doesn’t make any major headway either.

And over the next week, she gets better at holding in her answers before blurting them out. Since she more or less can expect her professors to ask questions in class, she can ready herself to keep her mouth clamped shut long enough to shoot her hand in the air before shouting the answer, although she still can’t wait long enough to be called on. She’s still blurting out, but at least it’s a more polite version of it.

Jemma thinks she could live with it, if it comes down to it. But she would definitely prefer for the curse to be broken.

So it’s good that Daisy has a lot of ideas.

“So, I’ve been doing research into your cur -” Daisy cuts herself off and glances around the library to make sure that no one is listening. “ _Condition_. And it occurred to me - true love’s kiss.”

Fitz snorts. “So by doing research, you mean you were watching Disney movies?”

Daisy rolls her eyes. “Well, I don’t see you sharing any brilliant ideas.”

Jemma’s fingers tap on the table. “I suppose it’s worth a shot.” She opens her notebook and clicks her pen, prepared to start brainstorming where she could find a potential true love. She’s heard that Tinder is a thing.

“Great!” Daisy beams. “So now you and Fitz just need to kiss.”

Jemma’s pen falls out of her hand. “What?” She turns to look at Fitz. He’s staring down at the table, his face bright red.

Daisy glances back and forth between them. “Well, if true loves exist,” she says slowly, as though she were explaining to kindergarteners that hands are not for hitting, “it would make sense if yours was Fitz, right?”

Jemma flounders for a bit, unable to think of a response. And as is usual when she’s unsure of something and needs help, she turns to Fitz.

Fitz is quiet for a long moment. “Um.”

“Um?” Jemma prompts.

Fitz rubs the back of his neck, a bright flush spreading across his face. “Just...I mean.” He glances uncomfortably at Daisy, then rises unsteadily to his feet. “Can we go talk in the stacks?”

Jemma and Daisy both stand. Fitz looks pointedly at Daisy. “Alone?”

Daisy flops back into her chair, pouting. “It was my idea,” she calls after them as Jemma follows Fitz to the bookshelves.

Fitz keeps walking until they’re by the back wall, where the lighting is dim and the books are musty and old and the shelves are covered in a fine layer of dust. He turns to face Jemma, wringing his fingers in front of him.

Jemma’s stomach churns, unsure if she’s ready to hear what she thinks he’s going to tell her.

“There’s all sorts of love, right?”

“Of course.” The words leave Jemma’s mouth unbidden and completely unnecessarily, seeing as it was clearly a rhetorical question.

“And, well, maybe Daisy’s onto something. I don’t see why a platonic love wouldn’t work.”

Jemma blinks. The conversation has taken an abrupt swerve, and she’s not sure whether she’s relieved or disappointed that Fitz doesn’t seem to be confessing his undying love. “What do you mean?”

Fitz looks down at his shoes. “I mean, you’re my best friend. I love you. As a best friend, of course.” Fitz looks up at Jemma through his lashes, his head still ducked in embarrassment. “And you love me?”

“Of course I love you, Fitz.” Jemma lets out a heavy exhale. “I suppose it’s worth a shot.”

Fitz tentatively steps into Jemma’s space. “I mean, we don’t have to.”

Jemma bites her bottom lip. “I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try, right?” She leans in slightly.

“Right,” Fitz agrees as he slides his hand into Jemma’s hair. “Can I-”

“Yeah.”

Fitz gives Jemma a self-deprecating smile before closing the gap between them. His lips, warm and a little chapped, brush gently over Jemma’s for the briefest of moments before he pulls away. “How was that?” Fitz asks, uncertain.

“Too short,” Jemma responds immediately. She gives Fitz a wry smile. “Sorry.”

Fitz lets out a short laugh, almost disbelieving. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s hardly a hardship.” And then he’s leaning in again.

The kiss this time is deeper, with Fitz immediately prying Jemma’s lips open with his. They trade soft, lingering kisses for a while before Jemma, in a fit of impulsivity, swipes her tongue over Fitz’s bottom lip. Fitz gasps, and Jemma uses the opportunity to press in closer. She clutches Fitz’s shirt with one hand while holding his face with the other, letting her fingers trace the end-of-day stubble along his jawline.

Fitz’s hand, the one that wasn’t cradling her face, slides around Jemma’s waist and to the curve of her back, warm and perfect even through the material of her shirt. The shift in weight sends them stumbling, Jemma’s back hitting the bookshelf behind her.

It’s Jemma who pulls back this time, though she doesn’t go far. She loosens her hold on his shirt, but can’t bring herself to let go of him completely. She clears her throat. “Ask me something.”

Fitz blinks, and Jemma is unexpectedly pleased to see that he seems to be a bit dazed. “Huh?”

Jemma’s eyes dart down to Fitz’s lips and she bites the corner of her mouth, trying to keep herself from moving in again. “Ask me something. About the curse.”

Fitz shakes his head a bit, as if clearing his mind. “Oh. Right. The curse.” He swallows. “Do you think it worked?”

“No, it didn’t.” Jemma’s face pales. It’s not like she was expecting Fitz to be her true love. She doesn’t even believe in true loves. But if true loves did exist, Daisy’s right -it would make sense if hers was Fitz.

Fitz scratches behind his ear. “I guess it does have to be romantic love, then.”

Jemma’s hands drop to her side. “Yeah. I guess so.”

*

“Have you thought about just apologizing to Sally?” Daisy asks a week later, after Jemma accidentally chases away Robbie with a very technical meteorological forecast along with a long explanation of global warming. In her defense, if Robbie's trying to flirt with Daisy, he could do better than, “Man, why the hell is it 95 degrees in February?”

“Yes,” Jemma responds automatically before scowling. “But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but maybe if you apologize, she’ll lift the curse,” Fitz suggests.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll apologize for saying an obvious response consistent with the consensus of the scientific community.”

Fitz ruffles her hair. “That’s my girl.”

*

“What do you mean, you can’t lift the curse?” Jemma has never been one for histrionics, but she thinks that if anything were to merit the high-pitched shriek with which her words come out, well...it would be learning that she’s stuck with a curse.

Sally adjusts her safety glasses. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the apology and all, but that’s not how curses work.”

Jemma forces herself to take a deep breath in an attempt to keep herself from losing her temper. “Alright then. How do curses work?”

Sally hums in thought, keeping her eyes focused on her Erlenmeyer flask. “Well, they’re all different. Usually, it lifts when the person who’s cursed learns a lesson.”

Jemma crosses her arms over her chest and shrugs. “Okay, well I learned my lesson. Magic is real, keep an open mind, don’t be such a know-it-all, etcetera.”

Sally rolls her eyes. “Well, if the curse isn’t lifted yet, then obviously there’s another lesson to be learned.”

“Well, what is it?” Jemma asks impatiently.

“Oh my God, for someone so smart, you’re truly hopeless,” Sally mutters as she fiddles with the Bunsen burner. “Simmons, how do you break your curse?”

“I need to experience a moment of true honesty.” Jemma furrows her brow as she processes the words. “That doesn’t make sense. What does that have to do with why you cursed me? I’m not even a good liar.”

Sally braces her weight on the lab bench, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling. “Well, the parameters of the curse are defined by the law of magic, so I’m not necessarily sure.”

“How can you not be sure?” Jemma demands. “You’re the one who created the curse!”

Sally sighs. “It’s like throwing a ball - I can aim it, and I can throw it in that direction, and I know that gravity and velocity and wind speed and all of the laws of physics will affect its trajectory, so I can’t necessarily pinpoint exactly where it’s going to land. So keep in mind that this is just my best guess.” She turns to face Jemma and crosses her arms. “Telling the truth and honesty have different nuances. Something can be factually true without really being honest. And sometimes what we think is true isn’t capital-T Truth. Like when you said that magic doesn’t exist. Or like when you answer rhetorical questions. It might be factually true, but it’s not necessarily what people need from you.”

Jemma bites her bottom lip. “So what do they need from me?”

Sally gives her a knowing look before turning her attention back to her science experiment. “Why are you asking me? You’re the one with all the answers.”

*

Jemma bursts into Fitz’s dorm without knocking. “Ask me something I don’t want to answer.”

“Hello to you too,” Fitz greets her without looking up from laptop.

Jemma drops her backpack and collapses onto Fitz’s bed. “I’m serious. Ask me.”

Fitz lets out an annoyed sigh and swivels in his desk chair to face Jemma. “How am I supposed to know what you don’t want to answer?”

“You’re my best friend and you know me better than anybody,” Jemma responds immediately.

“Maybe you should give me more context so I know what we’re trying to do,” Fitz suggests.

Jemma’s face instantly twisting into a grimace. “Apparently, I need to experience a moment of true honesty in order to break the curse. I don’t even know what that means. Sally just went on about capital-T truth and people not needing facts and -” Jemma groans and flops backwards, lying horizontally across the mattress.

Daisy bursts into the room. “What is my life right now?”

“It is the sum of your experiences and actions that constitutes your existence.”

“Neither of you ever knock,” Fitz complains.

Daisy ignores them both. “I’m supposed to be studying for my coding final, and instead I’m going around to different covens to see if any of the witches there know of any spells to counteract curses. And instead of sending me to a supply store to get cauldrons and newts and shit, they start going on about the laws of magic. It was like being in physics class except, you know. Less boring. Though they did point out that we could just ask Jemma how to break the curse.”

“Yeah, we already got that far,” Fitz tells her. “Try to keep up.” Daisy sticks her tongue out at him.

Jemma sits up to look at Daisy. “I’m supposed to experience a moment of true honesty.”

“Oh.” Daisy frowns. “Well, what aren’t you being honest about?”

“My feelings.” Jemma’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

Daisy looks positively gleeful. “And what are your feelings about?”

“Fitz.” Jemma turns to look at Fitz, panicked. He’s staring at her with an unreadable look on his face.

“Daisy -”

Daisy rolls her eyes. “I know, I know.” She turns and flounces out the door, slamming it behind her.

Fitz exhales deeply. “Jemma, you don’t have to-”

“No, I-” Jemma bites her bottom lip as she picks at the hem of the sleeves of her sweater. “I think I get it now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jemma looks down at her lap. “Sally was going on about how when people ask questions, it’s not just about answering the question. It’s not what they need. I think she was saying that they need their feelings to be acknowledged. Like, when Daisy asked what her life is right now, she didn’t need me to define it for her. She needed me to acknowledge that, yeah. It sucks and she’s frustrated.” Jemma takes a deep breath. “And I think the lesson that I’m supposed to learn is that even when I think I know everything, there’s a lot I don’t know. Even the really obvious things that I should know. Like my feelings. For you.”

Fitz is just staring at her, and it’s not really helping her to have him just sitting in his desk chair, not reacting. She’s really prefer for him to participate in this conversation in some capacity. She licks her lips. “Ask me how I feel about you.”

Fitz’s voice is strained when he responds, “I’d rather you say it without my asking.”

Jemma blinks. “But if you ask, then you’ll know it’s the truth.”

“I want you to want to tell me. Not because you’re being forced to.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Jemma straightens in her seat and nods once. “I’m in love with you.”

Fitz nods back. “Okay.” And then before Jemma can react, he’s up and across the room and leaning down over Jemma, pressing his lips to hers.

Jemma swings one arm around his neck and clutches at his shoulder with her other hand. She pulls him closer, and Fitz loses his balance, falling forward onto Jemma. He catches himself with his right hand, and lifts his left knee onto the mattress to regain his equilibrium.

Jemma shimmies backwards to make room for him, and Fitz clumsily climbs over her, bracing his left forearm next to her head and using his other hand to skim up Jemma’s side, his fingers tripping over the hem of her sweater as it goes.

Jemma pulls back, gasping for breath. “Please tell me this isn’t another platonic true love’s kiss.”

Fitz rests his forehead on hers. “No. It’s an extremely romantic true love’s kiss.”

“Good. I wasn’t sure because, you know, you still haven’t told me how you feel about me.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Jemma pinches his side and he laughs, pulling away from her and rolling onto his back. Jemma follows him, rolling over so that she’s hovering over him, her hair falling around their faces.

Fitz smiles up at her, fond and happy. “I love you too. But you already knew that.”

“I did already know that,” Jemma agrees, leaning down to kiss him again. “But it’s still nice to hear.”


End file.
